


Where They Have to Take You In

by Querulousgawks



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-30 14:27:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18317111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Querulousgawks/pseuds/Querulousgawks
Summary: It was just that it contradicted the whole story of her life, was the thing: two decades of warnings, certainties, shying-away cousins and pointed sermons in church. The idea had been planted so young -there's demon in you, waiting- and fed for so long on her family's fear. It was only reasonable that she'd felt conviction growing inside her.Buffy was taking that psychology class; she'd probably know a word for it.





	Where They Have to Take You In

Tara had believed him along with everyone else, when Spike had yelped and clutched his head, stumbling away from her even as he gave his verdict. Human. 

She was pretty sure that she'd believed him. It had been hard to think clearly, she had to admit, through the series of shocks the afternoon had delivered: her dad and her brother and that look on all her friends' faces, and then the bright, wet pain of a punch to _her_ face, which hadn't hurt more than the rest but was a hell of a lot less familiar.

A vampire had punched her. In the face. He had hurt her, to prove that she was human, not demon after all, because it caused Spike pain to hurt humans and he certainly had _looked_ like he'd been in pain, so. He was probably telling the truth. She was probably just working through the surprise, that was the thing.

It was just that it contradicted the whole story of her life, was the other thing: two decades of warnings, certainties, shying-away cousins and pointed sermons in church. The idea had been planted so young -  _it's the demon in you, waiting_ \- and fed for so long on her family's fear. It was only reasonable that she'd felt conviction growing inside her, stronger every year. Buffy was taking that psychology class; she'd probably know a word for it. Tara should ask. She could tell Buffy that it had always been with her, the prophecy, something ugly and wild growing wilder as the date got closer, with vines in spirals around her ribcage and a flower in her gut, not opening, not yet. Waiting. 

Then Buffy could tell her it was her id or her ego, or something, and she could be sure. 

Willow found her an icepack and they curled up for a while, giggling at Buffy perched on the other bed, trying to look casual as she whittled stakes and watched the door. They went dancing at the Bronze and she confessed her secrets in the circle of Willow's arms, and when she realized it didn't ruin anything she felt so light she would swear they were floating. Because they were, she noticed eventually, and her terrible snort-hiccup of a laugh only made Willow smile. 

If something still felt like it was tightening around her bones, she was better off ignoring it. It was just the way she'd been raised. This was California, not Tennessee, and she was at a school as well known for its psychology program as for the Hellmouth right beside it. There would be a word for the way she was feeling and someday she would ask for it, some time later when she could handle it. It was too nice of a night to ask, and it had been too awful of a day. She was too close to the moment (of seeing them all react to the word, the _secret_ , and then noticing dully her own absence of surprise) to risk seeing that look again. It had been the same, on every face - a reminder of how much history they all shared, tangled up with each other and their awful town like puppies in a thorn bush.

She hadn't seen Spike's face. She wasn't really comfortable looking at him, most of the time. Would she have seen surprise?

She was glad she hadn't looked. It wouldn't have mattered. It felt traitorous all over again to doubt what she'd been given, especially as her arms filled with presents and the auras around her brightened, warm with their guilt and their good intentions that, for the first time, really did make her feel like family. They were trying so hard, and it was her birthday.

Tara’s birth had been a long and difficult one, she had always been told, the doctors doubtful she would make it and puzzled when she was born loud and healthy, just before midnight after hours of ugly struggle. Bethany had brought it up like clockwork every year, but when Tara's mother was around to hear it she would just laugh, insisting that she’d never been worried.  _You were worth it,_  she had always said, in words and in a hundred other ways.  _You were my girl from the beginning, and I knew you’d pull through._

They left the Bronze early, that night. It had been a long day. Tara kissed Willow in the dorm lobby and went to bed alone, even though it was probably silly, unnecessary. She’d believed Spike, when he’d stumbled back in pain. Why would he bother to lie? 

Midnight grew closer and she lay awake, thinking of her mother's smile.


End file.
